


Still Alive

by Try2CatchMe



Series: Sanctuary 'verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Cooking.</p><p>The angel was cooking.</p><p>There was an angel in the kitchen, wrapped up in enough gauze to supply a small clinic, and he was cooking.</p><p>Adam was working on making that make sense in his head."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
> 
> This is a bit short, because I'm obligated to hang out with my family, but I'll try to have another part up here fairly soon.

Adam thought his life had been as surreal as it could possibly get when an angel yanked him out of the ground like an errant vegetable. But nope, turns out he also had to deal with his long-lost half brothers (who, according to several angelic sources, may or may not be sleeping with each other), their half-drunk, wheelchair bound surrogate father, and a fallen angel (who may or may not be gay for one or both of his brothers).

Then, of course, there was that whole 'possessed by an archangel' thing. And the fall into Hell. And the six hundred plus years in the Cage, according to Samandriel.

Speaking of Samandriel, he was currently moving around the kitchen.

Cooking.

The angel was cooking.

There was an angel in the kitchen, wrapped up in enough gauze to supply a small clinic, and he was cooking.

Adam was working on making that make sense in his head.

"Angels cook?" he asked, picking at the label on his third water bottle. There had been beer in the fridge, but even if _he_ didn't remember all his time in the Cage his body definitely did and water was all he wanted. He may or may not have been hoarding the bottles to fill up with tap water when the fridge ran out.

Samandriel shook his head, "My vessel, Alfie, enjoys cooking. This is him."

"Wait, your vessel can be in control?" Then, "His name is _Alfie?_ "

"I am not an overly powerful angel," Samandriel said, tearing a slice of cheese into small pieces and tossing it into a skillet that was going to be scrambled eggs in a few minutes, "And even if I were, I have no strong inclination to keep him trapped and complacent within his own body. I hand over control quite often. The only reason he is not speaking to you right now is because he does not want to, though he has offered to let you bite him."

Adam choked on his water.

The angel frowned, "He is now stressing rather strongly that tone and delivery is everything in the English language and that he did not mean that as I made it sound. My apologies."

He then started humming something that sounded vaguely like Linkin Park under his breath as he took a spatula and started scrambling the eggs. Adam did not allow himself to wonder if that was Samandriel or Alfie, for the sake of saving at least _some_ of his sanity.

He probably ought to have been making some sort of plan, thinking about what he wanted to do now that he had a life to live again. Trying to decide whether to go home and fight for the life that was taken from him and his mother, decide whether or not to go back to school, something.

Right now, though, all he really wanted to do was eat breakfast with this weird angel and his antisocial vessel. And, hey, it wasn't like he didn't have the rest of his life to figure out everything else, however long that may be.

So he stood and walked over, reaching around Samandriel/Alfie to get to the bread box. He vaguely recalled seeing butter and jam in the refrigerator.

"How much toast do angels eat?"

Because this was easy to focus on. The smell of cooking food and the toaster would probably make him flash back to fire and pain any second now, but Samandriel would snap him out of it. Somehow, the angel always knew, which is why he only took a carton of eggs out of the fridge and pushed the bacon far to the back, so Adam wouldn't have to smell cooking meat.

He hated angels, as a general rule. They yanked him out of Heaven and threw him into Hell and he didn't deserve that, didn't deserve any of that. The only semi-decent angel he'd thought existed had Molotov'd him with holy fire.

But Michael, dick though he was, had made sure he got out of Hell in one piece and relatively sane and Samandriel had dragged him through to Earth even though he was more or less shredded himself, if the sheer amount of bandages he wore was anything to go by.

So this angel? This angel who let his vessel have control to cook scrambled eggs and didn't force him to speak, this angel who was soft spoken and still had blood in his hair?

This angel would be the exception.


End file.
